Chapter 22
Holly
My hands tremble slightly, but I don’t regret saying it.
I meant every word.
I want him.
Not just the bodyguard. Not just the fantasy.
I want Noel.
He stares at me like I’ve knocked the air out of him. Then he moves, slow and sure, until he’s standing right in front of me.
Not touching, not rushing—just there.
A wall of heat and hunger and something else I don’t have a name for yet.
“You think I only want one night?” he asks, voice low and dangerous like velvet stretched tight.
My heart lurches.
“I—don’t you?”
His knuckles brush down my arm, and I shiver.
“No, Tinsel,” he says the nickname he gave me like a vow. “you’re wrong. I want you forever. But I’ll take whatever you give me as long as you promise not to shut me out.”
And just like that, the floor drops out from under me.
Because that? That wasn’t casual.
That wasn’t just sex.
That was something deeper.
Realer. And scarier than anything I’ve ever known.
He cups my face and kisses me so gently it breaks me wide open. There’s nothing demanding in it—just reverence, heat, the kind of softness you don’t expect from a man built like a tank and trained like a soldier.
But then his hands move—down my neck, across my shoulders, tracing the line of my spine—and I feel the spark turn into a blaze.
“Noel,” I whisper against his lips, gripping his shirt like a lifeline.
He pulls back just enough to see my face.
“You good?”
I nod.
“Just don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
He kisses me again, harder this time, like he’s memorizing me. My mouth, my breath, the way I moan when his tongue slides against mine.
His hands trail down my sides, skimming the lace of my panties, setting my whole body on fire.
I’m not idle. I caress his shoulders, his chest, down his solid abs all the way to the thick, hard length I see outlined in his jeans.
“Fuck, Tinsel. No more of that or I won’t last,” he grunts, and removes my hand from his cock.
So fucking hot.
Then he lifts me into his arms, I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed.
The city glows outside the windows, snowflakes drifting down like a scene from a dream. But I only see him.
Only feel him.
Noel lays me down like I’m breakable, like I matter.
He peels away the rest of my clothes with aching tenderness, kissing every inch of skin he uncovers like he’s worshipping me.
When he slides my panties down, I’m already slick, already aching.
But he doesn’t rush.
Then he kneels between my thighs and pushes my legs apart as far as they go—and he just looks at me.
For one long, charged second.
That’s all he does, and I swear to God I’m so turned on I am dripping down my thighs.
“Look at your perfect pussy, Tinsel. So pink and pretty. You’re so wet,” he murmurs, leaning down and brushing a kiss to the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
“I’ve got you, Baby. Gonna eat this pretty pussy all up. Lick you till you scream for me.”
And I believe him.
I’ve never felt so safe and so exposed at the same time.
He leans back, tugging his shirt over his head, and I bite my lip at the sight of him.
Goddamn is he gorgeous.
Broad chest, scars, obnoxiously perfect abs. I know what I look like. I’m soft. I have belly rolls and dimpled thighs.
Some people call me chubby if they’re being cute. Fat if they’re not.
But the way Noel’s looking at me now, like he can’t get enough of me? Well, he just makes none of that matter. None of my old doubts or shyness about my size and shape.
Because I know he wants me as much as I want him.
And yeah, I want to know the stories behind his scars. I want to know more about him than I do.
So far? I can’t say I don’t like what I’ve learned.
Those powerful arms of his are so capable. I should know, I’ve already fallen into them more than once—literally and emotionally.
“Noel—please—”
“I’ve got you,” he repeats, voice thick. “Let me take care of you, Tinsel.”
He tastes me like he’s starving—slow, deep licks that unravel me. He nuzzles my clit with his nose, shoving his tongue inside my aching pussy.
Then, he swaps out his tongue for thick fingers, stroking into me as he circles my swollen flesh with his mouth.
He slides in and out, gently at first. Then Noel quickens the pace, curving those long digits as he sucks on my clit. I rock my hips against him.
And oh my God, his name becomes a prayer on my lips.
The bedding is a mess from my hands. I knock over pillows and mangle the blanket. My thighs shake, my hands fisting in his thick, glossy locks as the first wave crashes over me.
I cry out, shattering, and he groans like he’s the one coming undone.
When he rises above me, slipping a condom from the drawer, I don’t look away. I want to see him. All of him.
He settles between my thighs, stroking, teasing, coaxing soft cries from my lips until I’m trembling, until I’m begging.
“Need you, Noel.”
“I got what you need, right here. I got you. Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans when he finally slides inside me, filling me inch by inch, I swear I feel my heart split open.
I spread my legs wider, my hands gripping his sides and holding him tight. I want—no, I need to feel all of him pressing me down into the mattress.
It’s not just physical.
It’s everything.
I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he thrusts, fucking into me with slow, deep movements. Each stroke is branding me from the inside out. And I want it. I want him. So damn badly, I can taste it.
He kisses my temple, my jaw, my mouth.
“You feel like heaven, Tinsel. Like mine.”
I arch into him, breathless, tears stinging my eyes as the pressure builds again.
Every time he flexes his hips, the root of his thick cock brushes against my tiny bundle of nerves.
I’m seconds from coming.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, again and again, like a promise stitched into my skin.
“Noel! Oh God!”
And when I fall apart beneath him, it’s not just my body that breaks.
It’s me.
Because somewhere between the powdered sugar kisses and the way he looks at me like I’m a miracle—I fell.
And there’s no coming back from this.
Not with a man like Noel Kane.
Because he might be rough around the edges, but he’s got a heart that’s wrapped around mine now.
And I don’t think I’ll survive losing him.
“Never gonna lose me, tinsel. Fuck, your pussy is strangling my cock. Sucking the cum right from my balls,” he grunts, and shudders above me, and that’s it. I crest again, falling with him into sweet bliss.
He cleans us both up after, and rejoins me on the bed, pulling me into the safety of his arms.
“Goodnight, Tinsel,” he whispers, cupping my cheek and kissing me with his whiskey colored eyes trained on mine.
They’re full of promises and heat, and I know it’s for me. I kiss him back because I can’t not kiss him back, and when I look back at him, I know he sees it.
My heart sitting right there on my metaphorical sleeve.
It’s too late for second guesses now, because somehow in the past couple of days I went and fell for my bodyguard.
And it’s everything I never thought I would have.